


carried as it is

by couldaughter



Series: creatures that i briefly move along (teacher!jon au) [8]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Minor Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Past Naomi Herne/Evan Lukas, Reunions, Teacher Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26581240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/couldaughter/pseuds/couldaughter
Summary: “Right,” she said. Best not to ask, probably. Safety in ignorance. “So, being a nightmare monster is a side effect of, what, having to spend all day every day listening to nutjobs lie about werewolves?”Sims huffed. For a moment he looked almost exactly as he had in his office, all those years before, all wounded self-importance. It vanished just as quickly as it appeared, but it was kind of comforting to know he hadn’t become acompletelydifferent person. It gave Naomi some hope for herself.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Naomi Herne & Jonathan Sims
Series: creatures that i briefly move along (teacher!jon au) [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815988
Comments: 58
Kudos: 555
Collections: tma fics





	carried as it is

**Author's Note:**

> content notes: minor ableist language, discussion of canon-typical trauma and nightmares
> 
> naomi herne is from e13 "alone"

The list of parent helpers fluttered helpfully in the wind. Naomi, clipboard clutched tightly in both hands, pulled it securely against her chest and attempted a smile at Mrs Li, who nodded back.

“Lovely day for it,” she said, leaning close to be heard over the racket the class was making.

“Oh, absolutely,” said Mrs Li — _Penny, please_ — with an ironic smile. “Don’t worry about the noise, anyway. It’ll be a learning opportunity for Jon — the student.”

“And definitely not an opportunity to relax for a few minutes,” said Naomi, smiling back. She was trying to get used to doing that again, after so long in the fog.

Penny nodded, not even slightly ashamed. “You take what you can get with this lot,” she said, before pitching her voice a little higher to say, “Since they’re all _little monsters_!”

A chorus of boos erupted around them. Naomi giggled, despite herself, and checked the list one last time.

Today was a sort of test for herself, honestly. She’d been seeing Marcus for long enough that she felt confident in calling him her _partner_ in company, and long enough that Olivia had recently slipped up and called her mummy at the dinner table ( _weird_ experience, but cute). So now she’d volunteered to help chaperone a school trip to the local woods, and was almost looking forward to talking to the other adults.

It was far from the life she’d imagined with Evan, but that didn’t make it _bad_.

The trip — a twenty minute walk to the woods, half an hours of activities, and a twenty minute walk back — had been lovely. Even if Naomi was fairly certain she’d never get the grass stains out of her jeans, or the leaves out of her hair.

The student teacher Penny had mentioned hadn’t come along — apparently he got extra planning time, and he had some mobility issues, so Penny had pretty much sat on him to get him to stay in the classroom.

“He’s lovely,” Penny had explained, as they both watched their groups carefully picking their way around the edge of a patch of frogspawn. “But he’s too hard on himself. Pretty standard student mindset, to be fair.”

The class was still chatting away a few moments later when the classroom door was pushed open by a man wearing a green cardigan and corduroy trousers, hair pulled back into a plait and glasses hanging on a chain around his neck.

It only took half a second after he turned towards Naomi for her to recognise him. She dropped the clipboard, fingers suddenly numb.

“Naomi?” said Penny, concern only faintly audible over the rushing sound in Naomi’s ears.

He had a normal number of eyes, at least. If he’d still had hundreds of them like fucking Argus or something she definitely would’ve screamed. As it was, she had just enough breath left in her lungs to duck past Penny’s worried stare and back into the school building before she collapsed against the wall in the corridor, palms pressed hard against her eyelids.

The first time she met Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist, she’d dismissed him as the kind of self-important prick who naturally congregated in mid-level admin jobs. But then she’d started having nightmares again, the kind of recurring ones that actually had resulted in a trip to the sleep specialist, and he’d _been there._ Just standing there Watching her as she ran out into the road, eyes all open and trained on her.

Those dreams had lasted years, in the end, all the way through CBT and a lot of ill-advised attempts at feeling something, anything besides the crushing weight of fog in her chest. And then they’d stopped, as suddenly as they came, and she met Marcus a few weeks later. 

Grey started to creep in at the edges of her vision, even against the kaleidoscope of colour behind her eyelids.

She ground her palms further into her skull and tried not to jump when the classroom door opened behind her.

“The class are settled in,” said Sims, quietly. “Olivia was quite insistent I come and make sure you’re okay.”

He sat down across from her, legs crossed, and waited. It was unnerving to realise that she could _feel_ him watching her, even with her eyes shut beneath her palms.

After a few moments, she lowered her hands and looked at him. He looked sad, which she found a bit rich.

“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes downcast. His glasses chain had little cats at every fifth bead, Naomi noticed, and his staff lanyard had a purple butterfly sticker over his name.

Naomi laughed. She couldn’t help it, really. “For which part?” She flexed her fingers and tried to avoid the sense memory of the headstone against her skin.

“All of it, but especially for pretending not to believe you,” he said, promptly. He twined his fingers together. “I was scared, and I thought I could make that go away by ignoring the truth.” There was a very nasty burn covering one of his hands, reaching from the first knuckle of each finger down to his wrist before disappearing beneath the sleeve of his cardigan. His face, when she could bear to check, was covered in tiny circular scars. 

“And how’d that work out for you?” She looked pointedly at his hands.

Sims, the bastard, actually _laughed_ , a throaty sound that was a lot more amused than would be appropriate. “Pretty badly,” he admitted. “If it helps, the psychological damage was a lot worse than the physical.”

Despite everything, despite the fact it wasn’t even that funny, Naomi felt laughter bubbling up her throat. Helpless to resist, it burst out of her, left her bent over her knees and giggling madly until she felt lightheaded with it. “Oh,” she said, gasping for breath. “I can definitely believe that.”

They sat for a moment in the stillness, before being interrupted by the door. “Everything okay out here?” asked Penny, head poking out of the classroom, brow furrowed. “I’ve stuck on a Numberblocks compilation, so you’ve a few minutes before Kaya gets bored enough to come looking for you.” She nodded at Sims, who shook his head fondly.

“We’ll be back in a bit,” he said. He locked eyes with Naomi, questioning. She nodded, if only because the corridor carpet was pretty damn uncomfortable. “Ms Herne is… an old acquaintance. Haven’t seen her in a while.”

Penny raised her eyebrows. “See you two in a minute, then,” she said, and closed the door.

“So,” said Sims, after an agonising pause. “I’d assume you have… questions? Concerns, probably?”

“Mostly I’m still wondering about all the eyes,” said Naomi. She swallowed against the memories again, goosebumps rising on her arms. “I, uh, I was having nightmares, for months, with something that looked like you in them.”

“Ah,” said Sims. He pushed his glasses to the top of his head and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “That was me, yes.”

“Right,” said Naomi. She paused. He’d admitted it so readily, she thought, with guilt heavy in his voice. “Was that something you just… thought might be a fun activity? Something to occupy the long nights?”

Sometimes she had nightmares _about_ the ones he’d been in. It was the kind of recursive bullshit she would find hilarious in fiction, but in practice it was just miserable. 

Sims shook his head. He glanced away for a moment, throat working. “It was… a side effect of the job, I’m afraid. And I wish I could apologise in some way that really _meant_ anything, but as it is — I’m just very sorry. And it won’t happen again.”

“I should fucking well hope not,” said Naomi, before she remembered where they were. She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Shit, sorry. I forgot.”

He smiled gently. “It’s alright. There aren’t any children in the halls at the moment.”

His eyes did… something as he said it, something both more and less unnerving than the all-encompassing glow Naomi remembered from her dreams. That, at least, had been definitively weird, so obviously supernatural it was almost funny in retrospect.

“Right,” she said. Best not to ask, probably. Safety in ignorance. “So, being a nightmare monster is a side effect of, what, having to spend all day every day listening to nutjobs lie about werewolves?”

Sims huffed. For a moment he looked almost exactly as he had in his office, all those years before, all wounded self-importance. It vanished just as quickly as it appeared, but it was kind of comforting to know he hadn’t become a _completely_ different person. It gave Naomi some hope for herself.

“You’re closer than you’d think,” he said eventually. “But that’s not really a work-safe conversation. As it is, it’s not a concern for you or for anyone else now.”

“Reassuring,” said Naomi. She rubbed at her eyes again, trying to ignore the urge to cry. “I’m glad you’re less of a prick now, anyway.”

“Yes, my husband would certainly agree,” Sims said, rueful. “You probably met him, he was one of my assistants when you came to the Institute.”

Naomi flipped swiftly through her memories of that day. Sasha had been the one who took her into the office, a short woman with a wicked grin. She’d introduced Naomi to Tim, who was working on… something to do with a circus, and Martin, who was halfway down a call list of women named Angela.

“Well,” she said after a moment. “I remember meeting all of them. They seemed to like you, for some reason.”

“It was a mystery to me as well.” Sims looked sad at the thought, crow’s feet more pronounced as his eyes lowered. “It’s nice to have an… independent corroborator, I suppose.” He paused. “Martin’s my husband.”

“Oh,” said Naomi. He’d seemed nice enough, she supposed, a bit shy and clearly overworked. “I would’ve guessed Tim.” Tim had offered her a coffee, and made a slightly off-colour joke that she could remember laughing at, even if she didn’t remember exactly what it had been.

“Yes, well,” said Sims. He looked away, then coughed. “I think, Ms Herne, it might be easier to discuss this somewhere… less public? Or possibly over email, if you’d prefer that.”

Naomi glanced at the classroom door. A small girl was staring at Sims through the glass cutout at the bottom, eyes focused and intent.

“I’ll think about it. No promises,” she said. Sims nodded, clearly pleased to even be considered. Then, “I see your people need you.”

Sims smiled at that, a proper one. “I can’t imagine how you’d guess,” he said loudly. “I don’t see anyone there.”

The girl giggled, high pitched and delighted. Sims pushed himself to his feet, grimacing as his knees made an ominous cracking noise, and offered Naomi a hand up.

She took it. “Thanks,” she muttered, one she was upright. “I’m. I’m sorry I freaked out. Seems a bit childish now.”

“No,” said Sims. He rubbed his face again, the chain of his glasses looped over his wrist. “I hurt you, Ms Herne. It’s fine for that to have left its mark on you.” He sighed. “God knows I’ve ‘freaked out’ enough times for several lifetimes.”

He actually did air quotes. Naomi sort of wished she could properly hate him. 

“I’ll keep it in mind.” 

He nodded, looking mollified, and beckoned her towards the door. She let him lead her back into the classroom, where she took a seat at the back and immediately got a lapful of Olivia. Sims stayed at the front, where he paused Numberblocks and started to organise the class into getting ready for home. Kaya, the little girl from the door, was pretty determined to use him as a climbing frame.

“Are you okay?” Olivia whispered, hand cupped around Naomi’s ear, soft curls brushing her cheek.

Naomi thought about it for a moment, as Sims opened a copy of The Giant Jam Sandwich and a hush fell over the class. “Yes, sweetheart,” she said, struck suddenly by the memory of Evan reading to her from whatever novel he’d picked up, his voice still so clear and soft. She wrapped a careful arm around Olivia’s stomach, steadying her. “Yes, I’m okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> [apocrypals voice] like alvin and the chipmunks, we're back with style
> 
> at last we reach the Statement Giver Parent trope which probably already exists (or at least should!) within the teacher au sphere. naomi is one of the statements which i always found really tragic, so i decided to revisit her and make sure she's doing okay, and also so she could get some closure on all the weird shit she's been through
> 
> the giant jam sandwich is a CLASSIC picture book which may (or may not!) have caused my severe spheksophobia, but i certainly Said it did on my university interview essay about a childhood book which impacted you 
> 
> title is from for my young friends who are afraid by william stafford (i'm seeing how long i can go without using a tmg song lyric)
> 
> twitter/tumblr @dotsayers as usual! been working on some shorter snippets for this verse which i might put on tumblr soon? it's all a mystery to me


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